Chapter Eighteen
Donovan
As Thomas, our production supervisor, drove me to Hamish’s condo, I reflected on my house.
I loved it, but did it really feel like home?
Especially when two welcoming men awaited me in downtown Vancouver.
I’d researched Hamish’s building and wow, a step above anything I’d ever conceivably own.
Having a few wealthy friends in town, I’d been to plenty of upscale places—but I never felt comfortable.
Well, Cole’s house being the exception. Part of me felt I’d contributed to it, though—at least by bringing around willing play partners to keep my friend amused.
No longer.
Yeah. True. Not that I would turn down an invitation to join him, Caressa, and Michael—in a heartbeat—but I had the distinct impression that offer would never be made.
I’d offered to train Michael as a Top—if his interest lay that way—but he’d never given me any indication he would take me up on that offer.
Caressa’d made it clear she wasn’t wielding any implement.
I’d secretly smiled. I knew quite a few bottoms who had eventually become switches.
And several who had moved exclusively into the Top realm.
Somehow, I couldn’t envision Cole and his two partners making their way down to the dungeon—at least not for the foreseeable future.
And not just because of the shooting. They needed time to settle into their new dynamic.
Cole’d let slip that Michael was far bossier than he’d anticipated—and he liked that side of his lover.
And on at least two occasions, Caressa had taken charge.
Cole hadn’t specified whether these incidents had taken place in the bedroom.
Instead, he’d let my imagination run wild.
Sadist.
But focusing on that throuple kept me from obsessing about my men.
Because every time I did, I hit two enormous problems—Tyson’s tight control and Hamish’s inexperience.
Neither was an insurmountable problem. In fact, the heaviest lifting was their professional statuses—and they both needed to resolve their issues.
Well, to some degree. Hamish still felt residual guilt, and Tyson still felt residual anger.
Neither blamed me. Or so they said. That was something…right?
“You okay?” Thomas cast me a quick glance after he finished maneuvering the curve coming off the Lionsgate Bridge that led him onto West Georgia Street.
He was a handsome man, and I once envied actor Peter Erickson for nabbing one of the cutest guys on the set of the movie Peter had made with Cole.
Where they’d been gay lovers. For which Peter had won the Academy Award.
Cole was robbed. He should’ve won best supporting.
I’d never made a move on Thomas because I’d believed him to be straight.
Plus, he wouldn’t have suited me. Peter, though?
The two were happily married with two wonderful children.
A life I could envy—if only for the settled nature of it.
Not my speed, though. At all. “I’m okay.
Thanks for asking. I liked being on set today—even if I’m not at my best.”
“You could’ve taken more time. I think Valentino was pissed you came back so soon.”
“Our executive producer would also, under duress, admit returning to our normal schedule is good for everyone. The counseling crew has okayed us to get back to a full schedule. They’re still around if people have lingering issues.”
“I think one or two people might—people close to, uh, her.”
Meggibeth.
“Yeah, I can see that. I—” I breathed out a sigh as Thomas took the left onto Jervis Street. “I’m working through the guilt of not reacting sooner. It’s the building just up ahead.”
“Sure.” He pulled up to the front of the condo. “I’m not going to ask.”
I chuckled. He knew I lived over in Renfrew.
“That’s probably not a bad thing. Maybe one day…
” Except my relationship would bring scrutiny—especially the part with Hamish.
Are they right? Am I a celebrity? Will that expose us in a way I haven’t anticipated?
Or am I just plowing through everything because I want them so badly?
And is it just physical or, as I said to Cole, that it’s real love?
I didn’t have answers to any of those questions. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Hey, no worries. I got to leave early. I’ll surprise Peter and the kids.”
“Sounds great. Say hi from me.” I pressed my hand to Thomas’s arm. “Thanks.”
“Anytime. Literally.” He offered me the boyish grin that made him look younger than the early thirties he was.
“I’m going to drive myself the next time I come to the studio. I’m ready. At least I don’t drive stick.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, there’s that. Doctor cleared you?”
“Yeah.” Total fucking lie but, honestly, I didn’t have any pain, and my range of motion was back.
I’d even hefted a few bags for Kelci and Elouise in LA—not that I would own doing that to anyone.
Especially my men. I exited the car and headed into the building, happy to leave behind both the clouds that threatened snow and the brisk wind off the water of Coal Harbour.
I approached Hamish’s building and…spotted the concierge.
She rose from her desk when I stepped inside. “Good evening, Mr. Riggs. Doctor McAllister is expecting you.”
“Thanks.” I tipped my nonexistent hat at her and headed to the elevator. Nineteen floors took little time to cover, and soon I found myself facing a grinning Hamish, poking his head out of his doorway.
“She called you.” I said the words quietly, having no idea of the thickness of his neighbors’ doors.
His grin widened. “I give her a big bonus at Christmas.”
“That’s very considerate of you.” And completely in keeping with the man I was getting to know.
He held the door open for me, and I stepped inside.
Tyson stepped into view at the end of the hallway. Ah. Not crowding me. I appreciated that.
“Can I get you a drink?” He smiled.
“Water would be nice.” I had my stainless-steel bottle in my knapsack. But I hadn’t remembered to fill it at the end of our workout session.
He nodded, held my gaze for a moment, then disappeared into the condo.
“Let me take your coat.” Hamish spoke quietly.
I pivoted my attention to him.
His overlong hair looked a little mussier than usual. Has Tyson been running his hands through it? His lips appeared a little more swollen than I remembered. Have they been kissing?
I shifted in my tightening jeans.
Hamish’s eyes widened. He licked his lips.
I groaned. “I want to kiss you so badly—but I want Tyson as much and—”
“Coat.” He practically ripped my wool coat off.
After he hung it up in the closet, I followed him into the main living area. “Holy shit.”
Tyson chuckled. “When I finally got around to admiring it, I felt the same way.”
Hamish shifted from foot to foot. “It’s just—”
I shushed him.
The floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Coal Harbour stunned. I advanced and, to my surprise, was able to spot the skiers on Grouse Mountain. Although the view stunned now, it’d be even more breathtaking in the morning. “Shit.”
Hamish moved to me immediately. “What?”
“I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”
Tyson laughed. “I don’t think we’ve even been invited to stay the night.”
Our host’s eyes went wide. “Of course you’re invited. Tonight. The week. Whatever.”
I liked the sound of whatever. Even as I had the thought, though, my stomach rumbled.
Hamish’s phone buzzed.
Tyson rolled his eyes. “I think that’s what they call providential timing. Or something like that.”
I tilted my head as Hamish headed for the door.
Tyson watched him go for a moment, then turned back to me. “Food. We ordered Vietnamese. Plenty of choices, so hopefully something you like.”
“I’ll eat just about anything right now. Lunch is a long-distant memory.”
Hamish entered the expansive living room with the most heavenly smelling food I could ever remember scenting. Probably helped I was so hungry that I’d have eaten cardboard pizza and been grateful.
“Tyson, can you get the plates? Donovan, you’ll need to wash your hands.”
I nearly laughed but realized he was right. I hadn’t stopped moving once I’d called a halt for the day. “Can I use—”
“Of course.” He pointed off down the hall. “Spare one. I mean, you can use the ensuite—”
“Spare is fine.” I headed down the hall and found myself in a luxuriously appointed bathroom that rivaled Cole’s guest bathroom. I pissed carefully and washed my hands thoroughly.
By the time I returned to the dining table—which was an organic part of the main room—Hamish had three heaping plates of food, and Tyson was placing three glasses of water on the table.
Hamish waved for me to sit at the head of the table. Absurdly, the gesture touched me.
I obeyed. And chuckled inwardly since that was likely the last command or suggestion I’d acquiesce to.
Tyson sat to my left. After another few moments of fussing, Hamish sat to my right. Both men looked to me.
I picked up my fork, scooped up some rice, and ate it.
Hamish poked his pho with chopsticks while Tyson dug into his lemongrass chicken.
Some time passed before I ventured to speak. “You two not eat today? You’ve got quite an appetite. Or were you busy doing…physical exertions?”
Tyson snorted. “No, yes, and not what you think. We fooled around, ate lunch, and had a snack during our walk around Stanley Park.”
I dropped my fork. “In the middle of winter? Are you nuts?”
Hamish giggled. “That’s what I told him, but he insisted we needed to get out of the condo or…” He pinkened. “Uh, fucking…might happen.”
Tyson nearly choked on his rice. “Did you just drop the f-bomb?”
Our third straightened. “Well, I suggested a museum—you insisted on real physical exercise.”
“And fooling around? I mean, you don’t have to—” But I so wanted them to.
“I gave Tyson a blow job. He wanked me off. We showered and—” Hamish did some weird hand gesture.
“Lunch, physical activity, and no fucking.” Tyson grinned.
“I suppose a brisk walk counts as physical activity.” I took a sip of my water.
And adjusted my cock at the idea of blow and hand jobs.
I regretted not being here to watch—and participate.
I also liked the idea they were comfortable getting intimate without me here.
Sometimes I traveled for work. Sometimes—perish the thought—I was too exhausted after work to want to fuck.
I eyed my men. I’ll have to be nearly dead for that to happen.
Still, I had to give them space. “You’ll probably be too tired to—”
“Oh fuck no.” Tyson pointed his fork first toward Hamish, then toward me. “I risked my job for this, and he’s facing a disciplinary hearing. As pleasant as the idea of sitting around talking is, I want action. The sooner, the better.”
Hamish’s chopsticks clattered to the table. “Yes, please.” Said in a hoarse whisper.
I pointed to his food.
He pushed his bowl away.
Tyson shoveled the last of the chicken into his mouth.
I grinned.
Oh, this is going to be so much fun.